


Trust Me

by RuffledPigeons



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adoptive family, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Blood, Character Death, Depression, Gore, I'm so sorry, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other, Platonic Relationships, Regret and guilt, Trauma, Underage Drinking, Violence, Zombie Apocalypse, bbh needs hugs, dream is kind of crazy, lots of fighting, protect tubbo and tommy please, some fluff here and there, techno is tired, tubbo and tommy go feral at some point, wilbur is an older brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:34:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26571520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuffledPigeons/pseuds/RuffledPigeons
Summary: The world was meant to be safe, they thought. Those before them were meant to be sure the next generations to come would have a place to call home, a place better than this, a place where happiness and life could bloom. Though, Tommy never thought he'd be standing on the roof of their once beautiful apartment, yelling towards the one person he swore he could rely on."Trust me," He'd call out, his voice trembling with a plea.--aka: Zombie Apocalypse survival ft. your favorite boys trying to stay alive long enough to see the sunrise, but trust is hard to give, just as hard as it is to earn.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot, Minx | JustAMinx/Niki | Nihachu, Toby Smith | Tubbo/TommyInnit, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 42
Kudos: 452





	1. [Introduction]

**Author's Note:**

> We're out here boys, doing our best.

• Hello! :] If you see this, I appreciate you clicking! This is my second(?) fanfiction, and I do apologize for any typos, repetition in words, or things that may not make sense. I will be posting the first chapter tomorrow, or at least sometime tonight.

• Trigger warnings will be listed in notes at the beginning of each chapter if it contains one.

• Stay safe, stay hydrated, stay frosty. <3

• I may have lied, there is some romance and a lot of platonic. Don't hurt me, please.


	2. Monday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loneliness isn't kind.

Monday.

Today is a new day, or so Tommy would’ve liked to think. The moment he awoke, he was uncertain as to how long he was even asleep for; staring up at the roof of the car he seemed to have nestled himself into. The light seeps in through the broken and bloodied windshield, ever so delicately kissing his worn and tattered red collared shirt that has seen better days, giving him only the slightest hint that it was morning. Nothing more. Nothing less. Beneath his head was his backpack, which didn't quite make for a suitable pillow considering the many curves from cans he has gathered throughout the week and the ever so uncomfortable cartridges of ammunition for a weapon he didn’t even have. 

He laid there for what felt like a century, contemplating even getting up at this point, but the silence beckoned him.’It’s safer when it’s quiet’, he thought to himself, recalling the ever so assuring voice of a blurred face whispering to him during the first weeks of the infection. Tommy couldn’t quite find the strength to move, but, he’d figure the silence wouldn’t last for long. Rising from the backseat of the car, he’d bring his foot to the jammed door that he had possibly busted the night before attempting to get in; now he had to face the challenge of getting out before something had a chance to ear him. Between every kick of the door, he’d pause, listening closely to the world around him before bringing his boot to the door again, and on the sixth try, the door creaked open with a muted squeak. This is how his day was going to start, wasn’t it?

The blonde haired teen climbed out of his refuge for the night, those once bright blue eyes of his hazed with sleep and exhaustion; squinting at the presence of the sun. Reaching back into the car, he’d grab his backpack and lazily sling it over his shoulder, blinking away the sleep from his eyes as he’d carry those heavy feet of his down a paved road in the middle of absolutely nowhere, surrounded by nothing by trees and the ever looming anxiety that something, somewhere was watching him with bloodshot eyes.

The more he walked, the more he found himself aimlessly wandering as he normally would, straying down every path he could find and checking every corner he could, inquisitively eyeing his surroundings in thought. He passed by the playground, where he and his friends use to waste away the days fighting over the swings and climbing to the top of the slides, fondly recalling the day he broke his wrist after getting into a fit over who would be the king of the playground, the day a boy with a bumblebee striped t-shirt sat with him until an older kid from the school came to see what all the ruckus was. Once a sweet innocent place of trouble and scraped knees was now only a mirage of sorrow. The slides were painted a grotesque red, smeared by small, tiny helpless hands who were unfortunate among these trying times, the sides of it becoming home to spray paint in thick lines that read ‘NO HOPE’ in bold. He could barely count the amuck of bullets, remnants of limbs, discarded fabrics; purposely dismissing the rotting corpse of a hollowed teen with their back pressed against the window at the top. 

From the park, he’d eventually find himself wandering down a familiar road, one littered with tumbling pages and the salvaged wreckage of cars, a bit surprised that even a few remained ablaze even after all this time in his absence. Tommy could have sworn there were a few more unfamiliar tags on the once beautifully painted walls of the apartment buildings, more so, the haphazardly green colored paint forming that of a simple smiley face that burned itself into his eyes. With a lump stuck in his throat at this sighting, the teen could only shake his head as he dragged himself further and further from the once loving neighborhood towards the wreckage of what remained of his apartment building, staring blankly at his battered reflection from the tinted glass. 

“Holy fuck,” Was all Tommy could say as he stared at his condition; his once rosy and lively face paled and smeared with blood, soot, and dirt, a couple of blooming cuts across his cheek which dragged themselves down towards his throat, the irritated skin flaying itself outwards. Blonde hair, tousled and tangled, twigs and leaves sticking out from the ruffled tufts. Once a poster child for misplaced charisma, now a battered up image of lost hope. Alas, the only thing that took his attention from his reflection was when he reached for the handle of the door, only to find that the door itself has been unlocked, cracked open slightly with the chain that once bound it closed to unwarranted guest was ever so faintly unraveled; signifying that something or someone had enough determination to squeeze itself through a small space. 

Exhaustion was now replaced with anxieties as he began to throw his stuff through the small opening, doing all he could to prevent himself from making any noise, not wishing to alert anything that may be lurking within. First went his bag, second went his crowbar and third went that lanky figure of his; the chain digging sharply into his hip as he forced himself through. Upon entering, he’d cautiously close the door behind him, as much as he regretted that action, knowing that if something had gotten in, he might have just locked himself in with it. Gathering his belongings, Tommy slowly made his way up the concrete steps, clutching tightly to his weapon as he’d climb from floor to floor, stepping over putrid remnants, broken glass and the array of displaced cans held by strings as a way to lure, or distract anything that managed to get through.

Upon reaching the first floor, he eyed the boarded up doors blocked by various objects ranging from chairs to cabinets, the groaning from within those walls growing louder at the sound of his presence. First floor was clear. The second floor met the same fate, only this time, a painted ‘x’ over the side of the wall towards the leftmost door, a mental note of his to signify it’s been cleared out. The other was closed shut, only a mere singular board on the door which prevented it from being opened. Second floor was clear. Onto the third, he found himself fumbling slightly as a hand reached out from beneath the corroded wood from the door, grasping at his ankle and casting him to the ground with a sharp thud. Both of these doors have been closed shut and locked, he was firmly aware of what resided in one of them, but the hole in the door was something he had missed previously. Struggling against the ground, the wind was practically knocked from him as his head practically bounced on the lowermost stair; causing his vision to swim black as he’d kick at the hand with whatever strength he could muster. He could hear the way the creature beyond that door creaked and groaned hungrily; the decaying hand clawing itself at the air as rotted nails found themselves accustomed to Tommy’s jeans. It took a few hefty kicks to eventually pull himself free, mind throbbing as he’d shamble to his feet and hesitantly continued his way upwards. Third floor requires maintenance, but is clear. 

The fourth floor, his own, for that matter, appeared to have been messed with! The items he used to block his door had been moved astray, the door itself looking as if it had been banged on a few times; the slightest glimpse of red staining the cracking woodworks while the door across from him has been untouched, as if whatever was present had given up. It was long before he heard the noise of a door creaking open a few floors ahead, the sound of movement above him putting all his nerves on end. Instinct told him to get inside, but he had to be sure what he heard wasn’t a threat! Perhaps another shambler, something that couldn’t break into his safe haven while he’s asleep, or something that could set all these plans back to the beginning. Before he even knew it, he was running. From floor to floor until he reached the top, he could see the ever so blinding light of day burning into his vision as he practically threw himself to the door; crowbar in tow.

But nothing could prepare him for what he saw.

Time itself felt like it was crashing around him as he watched the form of a smaller boy stand at the edge of the roof, shaggy brunette hair, blood dripping from his side as he held himself in his arms. Tommy could not believe his eyes, but he couldn’t quite make out whether what he saw was a living human being or merely a shamble on the brink of losing humanity. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he slowly built the courage to call out to whatever was there.

“HEY!” He’d practically cry, his dizzy vision trained upon the trembling form feet away from him, and by the Gods, he wasn’t prepared at all.

The figure slowly turned, hesitant, frail even, and there they stood.

A boy, similar to Tommy’s age with bloodied clothes and a jacket zipped tightly to his neck; doe like eyes filled with anxiety and fear as they turn to face him. Time stood still, the brisk wind brushing past them as they both stared in confusion. 

“Let-- let me help you,” Tommy spoke in a desperate tone, extending a hand outwards slowly as he’d drop the crowbar from his hands.

The boy seemed untrusting of this, almost as if he had experienced the ‘help’ of others many times before,”Why!?” He’d shout, voice hoarse and shaky.”Why should I?!” His voice held pain, obviously hurting as they’d hold their side closer.

It gave him a moment to think.

The world was meant to be safe, they thought. Those before them were meant to be sure the next generations to come would have a place to call home, a place better than this, a place where happiness and life could bloom. Though Tommy never thought he'd be standing on the roof of their once beautiful apartment, yelling towards the one person he swore he could rely on at this time. The only chance at hope he had. 

"Trust me," He'd call out, his voice trembling with a plea.


	3. [Bumblebee Wings]

_"Trust me."_

  
The scuffled boy stared at Tommy as if he were insane, but there was something that drew him from that ledge with stuttering movements that mimicked that of a cautious animal that has been corned by a possible predator; though Tommy was everything but imposing, looking almost as afraid as he was. He couldn't help but to let out a rather pained cry as he stepped off the wall, nearly collapsing down to his knee as his hand found his way back to his side as blood began to seep through his fingers, soaking further into that mossy green jacket he wore. When Tommy drew closer to offer his assistance, the boy cringed back some, glaring daggers at the blonde haired rascal as if it were a warning.

 _'How could you learn to trust someone after everyone you've come across has harmed you?'_ Those words danced through his mind as his he felt himself grow weaker by the second, fatigue having caught up to him, exhaustion hitting him in waves. He wasn't sure on if he could trust the now hesitant teen before him, though he wasn't quite sure he wanted to die here on this roof in front of a stranger who seemed as lost as he was.

  
_'He's going to hurt you and leave you like they did.'_ The boys thoughts ran rampant as his chest sank between every staggering breathe he drew, his arm slowly moving to curl around himself as he crashed onto the ground, trembling as his he felt the way his words lingered in his throat, shameful tears pricking the corners of his eyes as his vision grew foggy, feeling as if he was anyplace but here. He was shaking, his breathing was hoarse, he couldn't find a way to pull himself back to reality and away from his thoughts, even in the silence everything seemed so loud. Overwhelming. Suffocating.

It wasn't until he felt a pair of arms wrap around him that he found himself anchored back to Earth.

"It's gon' be okay," The heartbeat in his ears began to soften, enough for him to hear the sound of the voice that tried to usher him assurance. It was the last thing the boy had heard before everything felt as if everything had caved around him, the world itself spinning as his vision swam black. Despite this, he felt safe, for the first time in awhile.

The second he felt the boy's body go slack against him, those arms loosely falling from his form as he carefully scooped the now unconscious boy into his arms with whatever strength he could bare at such a time knowing that his emotions could wait. His thoughts could wait. Tommy's only intention at this point was to get this strange person he found on the roof of his apartment someplace safe from the elements and whatever could threaten such a frail being, someone who looked as if he could barely hurt a fly.

Moving as quickly as he could, Tommy almost flew down each flight of stairs, ignoring the same spot he had bumped his head, ignoring the hungry groans from behind that door, ignoring whatever he had previously encountered and checked until he finally reached his own home with his arms growing heavy with the newfound weight he had carried down those flights. He was quick to step over the array of items that were scattered about from the boy's previous attempt to seek refuge. He'd fumble about with his belongings, doing all that he could with one hand without dropping the other; eventually managing to draw a chipped card from his pocket and insert it into the door, a subtle click from inside signifying it was unlocked and the second he could get entry, he burst into his home only to swing the door shut behind him with his foot. 

The apartment wasn't quite 'homey', the windows having been blocked by various curtains to mute any light from escaping within, an array of maps and posters flooded half of his walling, some places circled and some places scribbled out in a brash blue pen. The floor was practically covered with various weaponry, clothes, empty bottles and cans and a variety of other things such as toys to keep himself entertained, a bundle of glowsticks, an absolute stockpile of batteries and strangely enough an unhealthy amount of jam of various flavors. Needless to say, Tommy has spent quite a lot of his time focusing on more than survival! Within time, he eventually managed to find a place to set the boy down where he couldn't roll off of or feel uncomfortable, even if the springs of the chair sprouted from the fabric, it was almost the best he could do to leave him in the recliner as he went to gather whatever supplies he could get from the bathroom.

Of course, Tommy hadn't expected any of this, all he's ever patched up for himself was bumps and bruises, scrapes and scratches; nothing he thought that could compare to the boys injuries. All he could do was grab a bottle of water that laid discarded by the sink, some kind of peroxide, what remained of a roll of bandages and what he hoped was a 'clean' shirt. Once he returned, he never thought he'd feel relieved to see that the other was still out like a light, figuring if he were awake, this process would have been a lot harder than it may already be.

"Sorry for this, I don't.. think you can hear me, but, heard it's worth a shot." Having been alone for so long, Tommy spoke effortlessly into the empty air knowing he wouldn't get a response. He made quick work of the smaller boys jacket and shirt, having cringed at the sickly noise that came from him having to peel the fabric away from the wound as if it were a second skin. _'How long has he been it been like this?'_ Tommy thought to himself with furrowed brows, the scent of infection thick in the air as the wound itself looked intentional, though not by his own hands. If it were a shambler, or merely an injury gotten from loose wood or metals, perhaps a terrible fall? Or even a wreck? Those thoughts danced through his mind in a spin, each possibility being shot down the more he tended to it.

If it were an accident, the injury wouldn't have been as deep as it was. If it were a shambler, it wouldn't look as neat, as disturbing as that sounded. The wound itself was cut deep, the irritated and peeling skin around it signifying that there was more to it than what met the eye. By the marks in the flesh, it looked as if whatever caused it was aiming for something that would disable a target for quite awhile, divots along his side indicated that this was caused by something blunt, like a bludgeon of sorts wrapped up in some form of wire and judging by the bruising that dressed his ribs and flat of his stomach with twisted hues of violet and green meant that this wasn't just any form of attack. Whatever did this intended to hurt him, possibly kill him even if he wasn't able to sate the blood loss. But, _why? Why would anyone do this?_ The boy seemed so reserved, perhaps the wrong place at a wrong time? Questions began to haunt Tommy's mind with every passing moment.

"I'm sorry." He'd whisper out yet again, gaze trained upon the face of the shorter male as he hesitantly pressed a finger into the wound; carefully digging around the torn flesh in search of any debris and after a few moments, he managed to produce a scrap of metal piercing outwards into a hunk of muscle. He gagged at the sensation, a chill dancing down his spine as he practically dug out a splint of metal that looked a lot more.. bigger than he had hoped. Dropping the splinter down beside him, he quickly took the water and began to flush out the wound to help clear any dirt or residue that may have found itself home within it, fumbling slightly as the boy's face contorted with a flash of pain before settling. Once he figured-- or hoped, at least-- that the wound was clean, he poured a hefty amount of peroxide into it; disturbed by the amount of bubbles that fizzed from it. This process went on for moments of pouring water into it and then peroxide, giving into the fact he had absolutely _no idea_ what he was doing, or even if it were helping any; only that it felt right, for some reason. Afterwards, he'd fold the shirt he had taken and held it to the wound for the time being only to wrap the set of bandages crudely around the torso of the boy, hoping that for the time being it would help slow the bleeding; even if just a little. He was desperate, but all he had to do was wait now.

Wait and dread the possible outcome that this boy may never wake up, wait and dread the ideal of having to put down the only friendly face he's seen in months.

For once, he was afraid, but patience was never his strongest point.

Hours had pass, Tommy had found himself anxiously pacing around his apartment to where he could have sworn the remnants of his carpet had worn tracks of their own from his constant movement. He spent the time blocking the door from the inside, checking up on the boy and finding comfort by sitting at his side against the wall, crowbar in hand as he awaited the possible outcome of the boy turning on him. With all this time in his head, he didn't notice that his own exhaustion had hit him harder than it did before, and before he even knew it? He fell asleep, right then and there.

Until he heard movement, enough that stirred him from his light slumber, but full flight kicked in when he felt something loose collapse upon him.

In frantic motions, he'd wave his arms above his head to rid of whatever was upon him, preparing to bring the crowbar down on whatever was before him but as the sleep faltered from his eyes; he met with a pale face that matched his panicked gestures.

The recliner had turned, proving to be empty, and the more he came to his senses the more he realized that this wasn't an attack, more so; an act of kindness. The weight he assumed was a bag being thrown over him turned out to be a thin blanket, one he recognized that came from his room. There was a moment of silence between the pair, Tommy eventually loosening up when he saw that his actions had alarmed the boy beyond belief.

"I--, I'm sorry, I thought-- I don't even know what I thought, fuck-, are you alright?" Tommy questioned, slinking back against the wall to show he wasn't a threat yet again.

With lips drawn into a thin line, the boy wrapped an arm loosely around himself."I.. think so," He responded, voice hoarse and light; carrying caution on his tongue.

"Didn' mean to scare you, thought you might've turned or something-- fuck! I'm--," Extending a hand outward, he figured now than never was the perfect time for an introduction." - Tommy, I'm Tommy."

"Normal name, innit?" The boy blinked, glancing to the hand before slowly offering his own." - Toby."

Tommy for a moment had felt the weight of realization upon him, unsure on how long those eyes lingered on the Toby's face as words lingered in his throat. He held his hand within his own, almost reluctant to release his,"Toby?" The name fell from his lips in a sense of sudden fondness, voice no louder than a whisper.

"Ye-?" Before Toby could even finish his statement, Tommy had pulled him flush against his chest with arms wrapped tightly around him, face buried in his shoulder as he held him there.

"I-I've missed you, Tubbo." Tommy had sniffled, choking up on his words as Toby slowly wrapped his own arms around the latter.

" -- Missed y'too, bud." Toby whispered back to him, holding the taller male in his arms as he practically began to sob.

And thus, the memories of youth had flooded back to him. The imposing sunflower and the bumblebee, sitting there on the playground on a hot summer day, one lecturing the other on how dumb he was as the other laid against the wood chips laughing through the rant.

At long last, Tommy had thought.

At long last he's found a friend.


	4. [Trust Issues]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can I ask you something?"

The rest of the night was spent with the two idling along in the silence of the apartment, doing their best to mute out their abrupt fits of laughter as they threw salted crackers that homed a hefty amount of honey and or peanut butter back and forth in an attempt to see which one would stick longer. Of course, this only ended up in a subtle waste of ‘snacking supplies’, as Tubbo would call it but Tommy assured him it was only a portion of what he had gathered, that it was not a waste at all and that for the first time in forever he made peace with that.

_ “It was worth it to hear your laugh again.” _

Those very words resonated with a chaste sense of affection, leaving Tubbo almost starstruck before he’d sling yet another honey dripped cracker towards the lanky blonde spread about on the couch like a lazing cat, a jaw of peanut butter in his hand as a bundle of crackers laid scattered about his space; a Cheshire grin upon that face of his.

“Who are you and what did you do to Tommy? He’d never say that!”

Tubbo feigned accusingly, pressing a hand to his heart in a dramatic manner as he’d point a finger towards Tommy, which spouted one a laugh no one could ever forget, one Tubbo definitely couldn’t. For the moment, things were serene like they were back then, forgetting about the world that awaited them outside those very windows, but they didn’t seem to care about that for a moment. There was a surreal amount of joy present as they bounced back and forth with thoughts, rambles and how they’ve been after all this time, they’d talk about plans on where they would go given the chance and if any of the restaurants around town still had any good food left. It wasn’t until the sun was setting and the warmth of the afternoon settled into a brisk wind did they find themselves sitting in their designated ‘beds’ for the night, Tommy having completely taken over the couch as his own while Tubbo settled in the recliner wrapped up in a weather quilt. Their energy having calmed, the atmosphere was light; leaving all but a subtle question lingering on Tommy’s tongue as he casted his gaze on over to his friend.

“..Aye, Tubbo?” Addressing the recliner thief, he’d be given a tired glance in return.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of-- of course, what is it?”

“..What happened to you?”

A bit taken back by the question, Tubbo chuckled almost nervously.” _What_?”

“Your-- side, how’d you get that?” The question lingered in the air, silence befalling onto the duo.

“You-- you don’t have to answer, but I’m genuinely asking.” 

Not wishing to push Tubbo too far, Tommy began to chew at the inside of his cheek as he kept his eyes trained upon the shifting boy.

“..I made a mistake, is all. It’s nothing bad-- or anything-- I just didn’t seem--,” Fumbling over his words, Tubbo huddled himself further beneath his quilt as Tommy remained strangely patient for him to find his train of thought.

“They told me it’d be safe there, and that I wouldn’t have-- to worry about anything, it was nice, had.. E-everything you’d need to survive for months, maybe years, I-I don’t know.. He was nice to me, he said I had potential-- he didn’t yell, he didn’t hurt me or anything--.. But his friends, they.. They said to survive in this world, you had to do things you don’t want to do. He-- trusted them, so I thought.. I thought I could, too.” Solemness laced those very words, those doe-eyes dropping back to the floor as he began to trace the seams of his blanket in order to bring himself even the slightest bit of comfort.

“They-- we-- we went out and foraged for things, we set fire to places, we-- stole from people, other people; gangs, families and friends alike. I-I guess-- I didn’t fit, I didn’t want to do it, I-I didn’t want to hurt people, Tommy.”

Sniffling, Tubbo began to shake his head as he leaned back in the recliner, pulling his legs upwards to his chest with his arms loosely clasped around them as tears pricked the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill over.

“I couldn’t do it, I didn’t wanna do it, but they made me do it-- he tried to talk them out of it but e-even he caved in. T-Tommy, I want to survive, but I don’t want to kill people in order to do that.” Before he even knew it, he was sobbing and all Tommy could do for a moment was watch him with empathy, uncertain on what to say or do. He had plenty of questions gathered in his throat but he felt like it’d add on more unwarranted stress onto his friend. Eventually he settled with peeling himself up from the couch to go and settle down on the side of the recliner, nearly spilling over the edge as he’d drape an arm around Tubbo and pull him closer to him. He didn’t know what to say, or what he could even attempt to say; all he could do was hold him, let him know that he was there and that he was listening. 

“ _Am-- am I a bad person?_ ” Spouted Tubbo, hiccuping between his sobs as he leaned against Tommy’s shoulder, the pair sitting in what looked like an awkward position with Tubbo taking up most of the seat, yet, seeming to be the one being held while Tommy remained perched halfway on the seat and halfway of the arm.

“No--, Tubbo, you’re.. Not a bad person, I promise you that. People do what they can to survive-- it’s.. Not good, of course..” Now it was Tommy’s turn to fumble over his words as he’d think back to all he had done in order to get where he is, all the people he had to step over, the supplies he had to practically fight for in order to obtain, the damage he had caused in order to ensure his own survival since for the most part, he only had to worry about himself and nobody else, but he felt that now that had to change. 

“..You’re gonna be okay,” Tommy stated in a sense of defeat, shoulders tensing as he’d listen to the doubting murmurs from Tubbo.

“Because _I’m_ here, and-- I’m not going to let anything or anyone hurt you-- it ain’t much, but, it’s like bein’ kids on the playground again, me and you versus the world-- except that world is a lot more fucked up and walking around with a gun is the norm.” Humor? It was at least an attempt, but, nonetheless; it did receive a little snort from the solemn lad.

“But, I’m bein’ honest, we’re gonna get through this one way or another, together, you understand?”

_ “Mnh.” _

“What?”

“ -- _Thank you,_ ” Tubbo mumbled quietly into Tommy’s shoulder, although his nerves were on their ends; he couldn’t deny the fact he felt safe here.

The pair remained silent for the rest of the night, all but the slightest movements of them trying to get comfortable until Tommy realized he was technically stuck in his spot due to Tubbo having crashed moments earlier, leaving him all but a living pillow for his friend with his legs tossed over the arm of the recliner and his back rested against Tubbo’s own, his head buried into the worn red and white fabrics of the latter’s shirt as the quilt just barely enveloped the both of them. 

All Tommy could do as he laid there, ever stuck like a gargoyle, was think back to what Tubbo had said; despite the boy not dropping names or any form of clarification on who had hurt him or who he was with all this time, he couldn’t help but to feel guilty at the thought of letting such a thing happen when he, himself, had presumed his playground friend dead months and months prior. 

_ Would this have happened if he went looking for him? _

_ What would have happened if they were never split apart? _

_ Where had Tubbo gone in order to get such a wound? _

_ Who’d he trust and why? _

_ Who in this forsaken world could have had the audacity to break a bumblebee’s wings? _

This was merely the beginning, and here he is, laying in a dimly lit room washed by moonlight that peaked through the curtains. 

Perhaps he’ll ask him tomorrow, if he had managed to get any sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Any characters you'd like to see introduced in the next chapters? Let me know! I apologize for the wait. <3)


	5. Troublesome Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I won't let anything happen to you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:   
> • Swearing, Subtle Gore, Violence •  
> • Not the best at writing combat, I'm sorry. •  
> • Did someone say.. slight character introductions? •

Tuesday’s were often regarded as the ‘daily run day’, meaning Tommy would leave the comfort of his little apartment in order to go forage for anything he could get his hands upon, but he knew that he couldn’t quite do that without either leaving the injured Tubbo at home to his own devices or bringing him with him on his ventures; both which left a dreadful thought in his mind. 

“ _If I leave him, something could break in, or if his condition worsens, I could lose him to that._ ” Thoughts began to race through his mind as the sun barely peaked through the twisted curtains.

“ _If I bring him, he could get even more hurt. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that if something happens to him, it’d be my fault._ ” Tommy began to shift, a sinking feeling in his chest as he tried to shake away the thoughts of losing the only friend he could rely on in this twisted world. His best friend. The only family he had left at this point.

Eventually, he figured he’d deal with his racing thoughts; now he had to get ready--.

_**Wait.** _

As Tommy jumped back to his senses, he realized he was now laying across the recliner with a blanket piled over him rather neatly, his head was resting over the arm and his back didn’t quite hurt as much as he thought it was, but, for the moment he drew a blank. What was he doing again--.

Practically flying upward in a sudden panic, he’d fumble from the arms of the chair and just about dropped himself onto the floor as he’d frantically rub the sleep from his eyes,”Tubbo?” He’d call out, not quite caring if anything was right out that door at the moment, Tommy could care less if a shambler were to hear him; where the hell is Tubbo!?

Just as he were about to begin a frantic hunt, the door to the bathroom creaked open and in the doorway stood the confused brunette dressed up and looking just about ready to go, shoes on and tied, one of Tommy’s signature red jackets zipped up to his neck and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; one of the empty backpacks in his arms as he’d toss the blonde boy a bit of a confused look.

“Fucks sake, Tubbo! Just about gave me a heart attack!” Tommy groaned, dropping his head back onto the floor in a state of relief as Tubbo approached him, nudging him gently with the front of his shoe.

An apologetic smile painted onto Tubbo’s face as he’d offer his hand out to Tommy, who gratefully pulled himself up with the smaller boy’s assistance.”How are you feelin’?” He’d question, eyeing his friend for any signs of a fever or infection from his injury, but luckily there weren't any present signs he could note. His face was flushed with life, those formerly wounded eyes flooded with a misplaced sense of youth, his smile not as forced as it was before; Tubbo looked alive, he felt alive, possibly for the first time in forever.

Tommy could barely hold a candle in comparison to Tubbo’s glow, but, that smile of his showed true sincerity and that was all he needed at this moment. It brought back some memories, which played out before him in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

“You alright?” A gentle voice rang out in his mind, blinking away the anxieties in his mind as he’d look up at the image of a boy wearing a bumblebee sweatshirt extending a hand out to him, the biggest smile upon his face and the most curious look within those doe-like eyes. He remembered being far too stubborn to accept the hand, but, after moments of realizing this kid wasn’t there to laugh at him and instead help him, he caved and was pulled upright. 

“I’m good,” Grumbled the image of the blonde as he was pulled upright, Tommy swore at this point he could taste the bitter powder of pain in the back of his throat as they sat at that curb for awhile in silence until someone came to check out what had happened; he remembered this day as fondly as ever. He remember how Tubbo sat at his side for over three hours from the park, to the office, then finally to the hospital where he got his arm casted; he remembered how the other wrote his name in bold letters unconsciously, the ‘b’ in his name replaced with a lowercase ‘d’ and the slightest scribbles of bumble bees. 

It left him wandering in his thoughts, questioning what things would have been if he hadn’t left. 

Yet, Tommy had found himself perhaps a bit lost in his thoughts, considering he had completely forgotten where he was in reality until he felt a jacket be casted over him, thus drawing him from his mindscape.

“C’mon, get up.” Tubbo mused, disappearing into one of the rooms for all but a moment only to return with what appeared to be a fire axe, Tommy would have been alarmed if he didn’t know where such an item came from.

“Where are-- where?”

“I want to explore.”

Tommy drew a complete blank while idly gazing at the smaller boy, who looked truly sincere with his words. He was serious, completely serious and all Tommy could do was stand there and boggle at such a statement.

“Explore? You-- want to explore, Tubbo?” Tommy questioned, debating whether or not he heard the other right. 

“Yep,” Tubbo hummed, no sign of sarcasm in those eyes. 

_He was bloody serious._

“..Are you su-.”

“Absolutely.”

Well, now things seemed awkward. Tommy wanted to be sure Tubbo got better, he wanted to give him the space to recover and the time to feel better, yet, the other wanted nothing more than to just return to that world right outside the door as if nothing had ever happened, no fear, no anxieties in his words. 

It almost frightened Tommy.

But, he couldn’t deny Tubbo that sense of freedom since he himself would practically be doing the same, so perhaps he could take two birds down with all but one stone?

“ -- Give me a second and we’ll go, do you know how to use that?” Gesturing to the axe, Tommy took the jacket that was thrown at him and pulled it on over his bandaged arms, zipping it up midway before going to retrieve his boots from the little foyer.

“I’ve made it this far, haven’t I? Of course I know how to use this.” Tubbo clicked his tongue, resting the pommel of the axe over his shoulder with a dopiest of grins upon his face. 

The two went on for almost an hour bantering back and forth between one another, throwing the slightest of insults and jabs at one another in a way that only brothers truly could understand. It began with Tubbo asking if he had to bring snacks, and Tommy teasingly asking if he’d be trying to bribe the shamblers to leave them be if he did, which turned the current conversation into theories and wild questions on if the apocalypse ended, it’d be due to all of the shambles discovering what it’s like to have a fresh out of the oven pizza or realizing that people don’t taste as good as pot pies. This continued from the apartment to the stairway to the sidewalk, strolling on down as if it were all but a normal day in their lives.

Needless to say, this was a sense of life that Tommy had been deprived of for almost years now; seeing that every living person he has had the audacity to meet either died off to the infection or were absolutely insane. His parents were out of state when the infection hit, and various voicemails left on the phone had proven that they likely didn’t make it past the first wave. He survived for a while with a couple of people from his school, but that didn’t last very long, seeing that the group descended further into paranoia the more time went on. The last time he saw a friendly face was when an elder boy who lived a few streets away from him took him by the shoulders and told him to run when their little camp within the neighborhood was ransacked and he stayed behind to cover his tracks. Since then, Tommy had developed a sense of apathy for the world, figuring that everyone was either against him or a liability, he never thought he’d find someone that could break down such a belief in a matter of a day. Everyone he ever loved, cared for, or knew was gone; all except for Tubbo, and that alone left him in disbelief.

Though, as they wandered, he couldn’t help but to ponder with the idea that if Tubbo was alive all this time, maybe there was a chance someone else was too. He spoke of a group, people which he was with; even if they were possibly crazed; there were still survivors out in this world. 

A living image of proof was before him; Tubbo. Despite his condition, he wandered ahead of the blonde with his arms extended outwards to balance himself out as he walked on the edge of the sidewalk, flailing slightly at every little tip he had taken towards the street. If this strange kid he had known from playground days had survived this long, the kid he knew could never hurt a fly let alone another person could make it in this bitter and cruel world, perhaps he could too. 

They’d walk for what felt like forever at this point, from the burning hours of what might have been ten in the morning to twelve in the afternoon, having passed several rundown houses and tarnished cars, doing whatever they could to ignore the signs of any haphazardly green spray paint on any walls, signs and buildings they could, but such signs have become more prominent in this side of town; considering it was one of the few that had been marked, yet, that store a few blocks down had all that they could need for the next month or so, at least, Tommy had hoped. 

If there was one thing he had gotten good at, it’s been mapping the nearest ‘stations’ around him, not necessarily close to his apartment and quite out of the suspicion of his nature. He took note of what he assumed were the ‘residence’ of the populous, more so, where they have taken refuge, where they’ll be on certain days, when they head into town and when they leave. If his notes were correct, today they were out. 

“Aye, Tubbo?” Tommy extended an arm outwards to stop the smaller boy from straying any further.

“Yeah?” Tubbo mumbled, looking down at the arm before looking ahead.

“Do you know anything about these people?” The blonde questioned, gesturing towards one of the various smiley faces painted onto the walls.

There was a sudden sense of unease upon the brunette’s face, eyeing the color for a moment.”Wish I didn’t..” He’d mumble, gaining a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from his friend.

“Are you okay with going in with me?” Tommy pushed on, and judging by Tubbo’s reaction; he didn’t want to force him to go anywhere he wasn’t comfortable with going.”They wouldn’t be here on Tuesday.” Climbing over the roadblock, he’d extend a hand outwards to his friend, offering an assuring smile.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Those words alone were enough to coax Tubbo over the wall, grabbing ahold of Tommy’s hand as they’d share a mutual hug before shuffling along.

While the apartment was secure, they only had to really worry about the shambler in one of the rooms; but to be guarding a store as a whole, it was quite horrific. By the looks of it, there was only one way in by foot; each exit and entrance having been blocked by roadblocks or makeshift traps of spikes that held more than enough shambled corpses, each with an arrow notched into it’s skull. There were warning signs everywhere, judging by the disembodied heads that were jabbed onto spikes, some that looked like they weren’t even decayed, signifying that perhaps the newest additions didn’t belong to something that was dead. Further down the way, a pile of charred corpses laid rotting; flooding the air with a sickening putrid scent that was enough to make the boy’s stomach churn unconsciously.

Hands entwined, there were various signals to show discomfort in the area from both the teens, hands fumbling or squeezing at one another to show that they were in this together, that they wouldn’t leave one another in such a place, not now, not ever. Eventually, they had made it towards the door; seemingly pristine and speckled with barbed wires dried with blood. 

“Don’t-- don’t touch that.” Tubbo stated the obvious, receiving a look of sarcasm from Tommy as the taller boy removed his jacket from around himself and used it to carefully lift the wiring enough for him and Tubbo to squeeze on past without the risk of injury only to pry his jacket from the ridges as they snuck inside.

The inside of the store was strangely clean, the shelves having been pushed against any doors and windows to prevent unwelcomed entry, the lights were dim enough to not attract too much attention from outside sources and there was a strange amount of stock. They had time, didn’t they? In order to get what they needed and to get out, considering certain notes signified whoever had owned such a place wouldn’t be around for the next couple of days.

Jokingly, Tommy wandered towards the bagging area and plucked out a basket that he’d settle around his arm.”Are we out of cereal?” Tilting his head to the side, he’d get an eyeroll from Tubbo and a gentle jab in the ribs by an elbow.”Need more peanut butter,” The brunette hummed, patting his chest as he’d wander along closely.

“Are you alright with doing this?” The question lingered in the air as Tommy walked towards one of the shelves, idly eyeing the collective knicknacks of snowglobes and figurines. Even in an apocalypse, how could one deny such hobbies?

“Doin’ what?” Tubbo grumbled as he’d eye such collectables, bitterness in his words.

“You said the other night you didn’t like taking from the living and so forth, that you didn’t wanna be the bad guy. I don’t want you to feel bad about this, but--..” Turning on the heels of his boots, he’d meet eye to eye with the curly haired boy who stared at him in silence before slowly sweeping his arm along the shelf, sending such collectables shattering to the ground with all but a simple ‘oops’.

At that very moment, a flicker of a flame ignited between the two with all but a grin and a smirk. It was apparent that Tubbo had known the group, and it was apparent that he had a lack of care for who they were; if he was willing to cause such destruction, perhaps Tommy wouldn’t mind either.

They’d go through the store, aisle to aisle, plucking whatever goods they can find ranging from reserved foods, luckily enough, upon the crates of beers and booze were a few hefty bottles of soda. With soft drinks, sweets, cereals, and plenty of essential food they’d actually need to survive. 

They made their way through the store to the pharmacy which was locked up, key, chains and all! The teens shared a subtle glance before Tubbo drew the axe from his back and looked towards Tommy, who was already prying the gate upwards with his crowbar.

“One?” 

“Two..”

“Three!” They exclaimed in unison, and with a clattering grind and metallic clink, the axe cleaved through the padlock; sending pieces flying downwards at the uphand swing.

“..How fucking strong are you?” Tommy blinked at this, looking at the smaller boy who only gave a dopey smile.

He’s not gonna question it.

With the chain now removed, and the lock absolutely pointless; Tommy used the crowbar to pry the gate upwards enough for him to grab the bottom of it and push it upwards enough to toss his bag through, giving Tubbo a pat on the back as he himself began to squirm through the small space.

“Knock if you hear something.” The blonde stated sternly, receiving yet another nod from the brunette who stood at the counter with his axe drawn and ready, seemingly alert as Tommy shuffled through the back. His time in the apocalypse had given him a fair amount of medical knowledge, meaning he knew what would probably kill him in a single dosage and what would make him feel as if he were immune to the world only to crash into reality moments later. So, he knew some things; ibuprofen, aspirin, oxycodone were good for pain relief. Nyquil helped him sleep, didn’t it? Seroquel? Xanax? Ritalin? Addereall? Tylenol was a given. Melatonin? Absolutely. Vicodin? Sounded safe, he’ll reach the label later. Amoxicillin? Sure thing. A couple of inhalers? Added. He has a fair bundle of peroxide at home, he didn’t quite worry about that. As he was looking through a few more labels, he was fairly out of it; boggled by all the writings and warnings some of these medicines had. It wasn’t until he heard a subtle, yet, desperate knock at the gate did he come back down from his thoughts. After stuffing all he could into his bag, he’d scurry back to the counter to see the slightest glimpse of Tubbo’s figure huddled back against the side of the shelf as stiff as a board, likely holding his breath as clattering emitted from the front of the store. There was commotion, movement, and to his surprise; voices. 

At that moment, pure anxiety became of the two. Tommy grabbed his crowbar from the counter begrudgingly and hunkered down as Tubbo practically shrank against the shelves in dread.

“What the FUCK?!” A rather smooth, yet, deep voice bellowed through the store. Judging by the crunching of glass, whoever it was; they likely had found the smashed collectables on the floor. 

“Dude, chill.” Another voice spoke, laced faintly with an accent; not enough to stand out in a crowd, but enough to be distinguishable from the others. 

_Fuck._

_We’re so fucked._

Needless to say, anxiety was now surging through Tommy like a wildfire; he could only imagine how Tubbo felt in such a situation. As footsteps drew closer, he found himself hugging his backpack to his chest for a moment of comfort before what he assumed could be his demise, but the echoing noise of an item being tossed further from him clattered through the store.

“George, check over there.” Irritated hung heavy upon the man’s words as his companion seemingly obliged judging by how more distance his footsteps became. 

“C’mon out!” The voice rang through the aisles, enough to strike fear into the very core of the teen’s well being.”You’re got no place to run! You’re either going to come out and make this easy, or we’ll be playing by MY rules!” Strangely enough, the man didn’t sound angry, nor did he sound welcoming.

“One,” He began to count, Tubbo could feel the way his throat tightened as he held his breath.

“ _Two,_ ” Tommy’s hand tightened around his backpack, slowly rising to his feet to look between the opening in the gate across the floor to Tubbo who shared his fear. 

“ _ **Three,**_ ” With the final count, everything went dark as the light’s powered down.

“Game on.” A whistle rang through the stores, seeming to move further away from them as Tommy took this as a chance to make his move. Carefully, he’d worm his way past the gate and ducked hesitantly to the floor to make himself smaller, backpack in his hand as he hopelessly tried to guide himself through the darkness while listening closely for any signs that whoever were in the building with him were further away. As he headed to the space he last saw Tubbo, he yet again was flooded with overwhelming dread as he found no signs of him.

Tommy silently cursed himself as he’d push himself upwards from the crouch, peaking over the side of the shelf as a glint of light illuminated the area further down towards the check out. From there, he could just barely make out two figures, one that practically battled him in height and the other just barely reaching his shoulder; one dressed in a stained green hoodie with patchwork stitching along the sleeves as well as various bands around one arm, the other dressed in a simple blue shirt with a signature red box across the chest; a bomber jacket atop of it with collective badges upon the front. Now, the most defining features? What looked to be a seemingly ornately crafted white mask with all but a simple smiley face painted across it, as playful as it looked; it bore a sense of warning. Secondly was the faintly shorter man with a pair of white rimmed goggles of sorts that sat perched snuggly atop his nose. 

Although he didn’t rightout recognize who they were, he knew of that signature and he knew the safest place to be would be in the center of a rampaging horde than in the hands of such people. This was their storehouse, this was their stuff and he was trespassing on marked grounds that held visible warnings on entry. 

Well, now wasn’t the time to think about it, now was the time to get the hell out of here without getting caught, but alas Tubbo was his priority. Every corner he had turned was a cautious act, his movements were slow and steady, much different than his normal demeanor.

“You’re really messing with the wrong person here!” The masked man called out into the darkness, causing Tommy to instinctively cuff a hand over his mouth and nose to muffle any noise that dared to escape.

There was a moment of silence as the footsteps had passed him, up until a rattling bang just about rattled his eardrums. Before he could even make sense of it, he heard Tubbo’s voice in the distance.

“Over here!” Hesitance laced those very words, but judging by the crunching of glass around him he could tell that they were heading that way. 

Now it was going to be a split decision, there were two people against them. If Tubbo was that willing to put his safety on the line merely for Tommy to escape; you best fucking bet he’d do the same.

Once the footsteps were further enough away, he’d take his crowbar and would bang it against the shelf, creating another rattling noise that almost resonated within him before he completely booked it.

“Two? My, now it’s a party!” A maniacal laughter rang through the air, and judging by the volume? The masked bastard was coming for him, leaving the one identified vaguely as George to pursue Tubbo. Now it had just become a matter of if they could get out without being added to the collection of corpses outside these very walls.

Though, fumbling through the dark wasn’t as easy as one would think when you are unfamiliar with your surroundings and you’re currently being chased by what you can safely assume is a fucking psychopath. Easy, right?

_Wrong._

_So very wrong._

This continued for minutes, a back and forth of objects being thrown to distract their hunters, a few yells and calls of mockery but all good things came to an end when he no longer got any signals from Tubbo, and worse came to worse when found himself being sidelined directly into a wall that nearly shook with the force of the attack; the impact alone making his body ache and his head swim as he found himself face to face with the masked man. Despite his features being hidden, Tommy swore he could feel that burning glare burning holes into his own, there was no peace, there was no kindness; it was a primal instinct. This man was a hunter, an apex predator; someone he knew he couldn’t face on his own.

“I’m taller.” Tommy spat out seemingly as a defense mechanism, defusing a situation with banter was always a part of his plan but the second he felt the cold end of a blade across his throat? He knew this wasn’t one of those situations he could swindle his way out of.

“You best choose your next words carefully, child.” The masked man responded, receiving a subtle glare from Tommy for calling him a god damned child, of all things he could have been called. A child?

“That was never my strongpoint--,” The blade pressed further into his neck, forcing Tommy into a state of silence.

“Who are you, who is with you, and what audacity do you have coming into my store to take my things?” The man pushed for an answer, a lack of remorse in his voice. Tommy knew by now that this was not a man he wanted to mess with, this was a man who without a doubt had dirtied his hands to survive; it made him wild, feral even, if one could be described as such.

There was no empathy in that voice, no kindness in those eyes behind that mask.

When Tommy refused to even speak, the blade itself became quite acquainted with the crook of his neck as the cold edge of the blade just barely glided across his skin; drawing the slightest bits of blood from the new found cut. 

Swallowing hard, Tommy’s brows furrowed together as he looked at the man in what seemed to be defeat. Upon opening his mouth to speak, he dangerously brought a leg up to push the masked man away from him; the only relief he was granted was a fresh gasp of air that he had little to no time to cherish.

The second there was a distance between the pair, Tommy brought his crowbar high over his head in an attempt to bring it down upon the masked man, only to miss his mark by all but a hair as the man ushered to the side, a snort of mockery escaping of him as he’d reach upwards to grab the scrawny blonde’s wrist, extending a leg outwards to strike him in the leg to bring him to a knee. Now it was a rough brawl between the two, Tommy doing all that he could to prevent himself from being dismembered as the masked man swung his blade with precision and confidence, the blade itself having effortlessly sliced through his sleeves and skin alone. 

Tommy practically flailed for his life, using whatever strength he had to knock the masked man off of him as blood trickled from his arms; some heavily in places that he knew would leave quite a mark if he didn’t get it patched up soon.

“I find it kind of funny,” The masked man stated, his assault coming to a sudden halt as he’d press his knee to the center of Tommy’s chest, forcing a rattly cough from the teen beneath him. Tommy’s hand desperately reached for the crowbar, but all that he could get was a seering wave of agony as the blade was stabbed right into the palm of his hand, practically pinning it to the floor as a wail of pain rose from his throat.

“You had the audacity to think you stood even a chance against me, and look where it got you.”

He could feel himself being restrained by a pair of hands curled around his neck. All he could feel was the pressure in his throat as his eyes began to water; face practically burning with anger and shame to have been so caught off guard. The taste of something sour haunted his tongue as the daunting feeling that fades and returns in small hiccups. With the world beginning to fade from around him, he felt as if someone had lit a match right in the middle of his chest that started a fire that began to grow as if it were a wildfire spreading through him only to fill his body with smoke. He felt as if that smoke were filling his lungs, scorching at the back of his throat and burning behind his eyes as suddenly things began to feel rather cold around him; that suffocating fire having turned into ice as a feeling of shock danger through him, pins and needles pricking at his fingertips and toes, the kick in his legs having settled as his arms began to fall loose from around the masked man’s arms. Stars fogged his vision, and he felt himself slipping further and further from life as he knew it; he began to lose hope, and figured that this would be his end.

It wasn’t until he heard a thud did any sense of relief become of him. The weight atop of him had slipped to the side, the grasp around his throat loosening and his breathing stuttering as he swallowed down whatever air he could in a matter of seconds. His vision flashed slightly, still quite out of it for the moment as he furrowed his brows, rubbing at his throat that he knew was sure to bruise before the night was done. 

“Tommy?!” A voice rang in his head, the ringing in his ears beginning to subside.

“TOMMY!” The voice called out louder, bringing him down to Earth as a pair of hands found themselves planted on his shoulders, shaking him briefly.

“I’m ‘ere..” Tommy stated quietly in a distant voice, being greeted quickly by a sigh of relief as those hands quickly pulled him into a hug; which seemed enough to bring him back down to his senses.

“I thought-- I fucking thought--,” Tubbo choked out, arms tightly wrapped around his friend’s scrawny form as he tried to whisper words of comfort.

“We need to leave..” The blonde boy mumbled into the fabric of Tubbo’s hoodie, who, without a doubt seemed to agree. 

Their comfort was short lived as Tubbo tucked himself beneath Tommy’s arm, holding onto the taller boy as he draped his arm around him to provide support; taking their backpacks and holding them close as he’d hurry towards the door with the best of his efforts. Although he was strong enough to carry his own weight, this was something more; the weight of Tommy’s body slumped against his own accompanied with the weight of their supplies, he knew he couldn’t make it back to the apartment on his own.

After struggling to get through the door, he cared less for the wiring and more for the safety of his friend. Tubbo knew that the second the masked man regained his senses, they’d both be in grave danger; danger that would hunt them down to the day that they died. Whether he noticed it or not, he found himself shaking; trembling as tears brimmed his eyes, bloodied hands gripping tightly at his semiconscious friend. He made it a short length of the way before he heard a voice from behind him accompanied by the click of a gun.

“Don’t make another move.”

_He’s dead._

_We’re dead._

_We’re going to die here._

Tubbo thought, no longer trying to mask his fear as he slowly turned; Tommy’s arm around him grasping him protectively as tears streamed down his face.”Please, we’ll leave-- we w-won’t come back, please j-just let us go,” The brunette sobbed, face burning as he lifted his head upwards.

The gunman only stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the pair as he’d slowly lower his weapon. Unlike the two within the store, this one held a sense of empathy; a scruffy looking boy only a few inches taller than Tubbo with white headband stained slightly with soot. He looked as if he could ignite a fire with whatever radiance he held and the scorch marks on his clothes seemed to prove that theory to be true.

All he did was stand there in silence, glancing back to the store in sudden conflict as an audible sigh escaped from him as his eyes met with Tubbo’s, a look purely of empathy as he’d signal for him to swing backwards enough to head for the truck that he and the other pair had likely arrived in. 

“Take the truck.” The texan stated, more of a demand than an offer; watching Tubbo’s anxious movements of uncertainty.

“Please-- just.. Take the truck and get the fuck out of here, ditch town, do whatever you can to get the fuck out of this place.” 

Tommy could barely believe what he was hearing, but, of course; his ears were ringing too loudly to understand what was being said. All he knew is that he felt himself being placed in the backseat of a car, the world spinning around him as he leaned back against the seat; listening quietly to the silent banter outside the door between Tubbo and the Texan. 

“Stay safe, please-- for the both of us.” Was all he could make out before the door was shut, beckoning him from his semi conscious state enough to watch Tubbo fumble to put the car into drive and the second he could? He got the fuck out of there as fast as humanly possible without a second chance.

The road ‘home’ was seemingly quiet, all but the ambient noise of the air whisking by as Tommy sat there in the backseat, keeping a subtle eye upon his friend.”Did you know him?” He’d question, being greeted by a startled jump as Tubbo assumed he was out like a light.

“Who?” Tubbo nervously responded, eyes trained upon the road.

“The one who gave-- you the truck?” Tommy continued on, settling slightly to be more comfortable.

“Kind.. kind of.” 

“Who is he?”

“My brother,” Solemness on his tongue, the response itself left the pair in a state of awkward silence during their drive.

If this was the group Tubbo was with prior, it filled in whatever gaps he might have had in his thoughts.

“Was I taller than him?”

The question itself stirred a chuckle, even if it was a weak one. It got Tubbo to smile again, and that’s all he sought for.

“.. _Wait_.”

“Hm?”

“When did you learn to drive..?”


	6. [Memory Lane]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "..How fuckin' strong are you?"
> 
> And Tubbo had the audacity to shrug.

The road back to Tommy’s apartment was just as stressful as his arrival, lingering thoughts clawing their way back into Tubbo’s mind as he did his best to memorize the route they walked; eyes bouncing from building to building as he drove. He couldn’t help but to feel that weighing sense of anxiety rising within him, burning at the back of his throat with words he dared not to express. His side ached, his chest sank between every breath and he couldn’t help but to toss a glance back towards Tommy as he bobbed in and out of consciousness slowly but surely. When the world swam black around him, the last image he saw was the worried face of the brunette staring back at him like a deer in the headlights.

Then the swirling darkness swallowed him whole, leaving Tubbo alone in a hesitant state and Tommy himself swimming through his thoughts idly. By the time his head hit the back of the seat and his body fell slumped against the bags, he found himself falling through time itself in a starlit masquerade that graced him with all but a little bit of solace, feeling nothing but the cold air around him as he stared up into the endless sea.

_“Thomas?”_ A motherly voice rang out, acting as if an anchor to his thoughts, all but an image of his mother crossing him with her face blurred by static. 

_“I’m leaving for a little to go see your grandmother, do you want to come with me?”_ The voice questioned, before he could even answer; he heard his own tired voice do it for him.

_“I’m good.”_ Simple as such, it got a firm tut from his mother.

_“Do you think you could take care of the apartment for me while I’m gone? I’m sure Mr. Watson could use some help down by greenery.”_ It was more of a request than a suggestion, Tommy recalled.

_“I’m a man, I can handle the apartment!”_ With his voice pitched, it was enough to gain that gentle laugh from his mother.

_“My little man,”_ She would coo, and within a moment that cold feeling was replaced with a subtle warmth as she planted a loving kiss onto the top of his head, ruffling his hair. _”I’ll leave some money in the kitchen in case you need anything and my number is on the fridge, if you need anything, call me. I’ll be leaving Mr. Watson’s number, as well as your babysitters--,”_

_“I don’-.”_ Tommy grumbled, only to be cut off himself.

_ “I know, Tommy, you don’t need one, but it’s just in case, alright?” _

_ “..Alright.” _

_ “I love you, dear. I’ll be home within a few days, aye?”  _

_ “Love you too, mom.” _

_ “I’ll be back before you know it.”  _

Simply, like that, the warmth he sought for was whisked away without a second chance to hold it there. He didn’t feel warm anymore, nor did he feel cold; he felt.. Empty. Vacant. Leaving him there in the solitude of his mind, he drifted further into nothingness.

How long ago was that, he’d ponder. When was the last time he saw his mother’s face? Or heard her voice? They didn’t have many photos hanging up in the apartment, alas, it was supposed to be a temporary home, they didn’t think much of decorating. But, even then, the photos couldn’t replace what was no longer there.

It was just a reminder that she wasn’t there, and possibly one of the few minders that showed she wouldn’t be coming back.

Not now.

Not ever. 

And that feeling clung to him for what felt like hours, soundless and quiet.

It wasn’t until he awoke wrapped up in a blanket did he even remember what the hell had happened previously. He shot upwards, desperately clutching at his chest with trembling hands as Tubbo sprouted upwards in alarm from the edge of the bed; clattering to the floor with all but a hand extended upwards to try and grasp at the blanket.

“Tommy!” The brunette called from the floor, clambering back up to his feet with relief weighing heavy in his voice.

“Where am I?” Tommy questioned, slumping forward some as an aching pain danced down his shoulders and spine. 

“..Your apartment?” Tubbo responded, looking around in confusion.

“..Did-.. did you-- carry me or somethin’?” The realization slowly settling, Tommy did come to terms with the fact he was in his apartment, more so, his bedroom. Not only was this his bedroom, he lived on the fourth floor. So, not only did Tubbo supposedly have to carry him and their supplies inside from wherever he parked the truck, he had to go through all the ‘security measures’ Tommy put in place. 

Four to five flights of stairs, about a hundred and thirty-one pounds without the addition of their supplies while standing bold six foot one (probably). 

“..How fuckin’ strong are you?” Tommy would have been impressed if he wasn’t absolutely horrified by whatever strength this five foot five absolute polite gremlin had.

And Tubbo had the audacity to shrug.

“How are you feeling?” Said god damn gremlin himself.

“Like I’ve been hit by a fucking bus,” Tommy let out a drawnout sigh, looking down at himself to take note of his bandaged arms and hands, the scent of antisepctic lingering closely to the wrappings.

“More like being hit by a Dream.” The name was spoken so quietly, as if the name itself was an omen that shouldn’t even be called. He who would not be named, like Voldemort, but apparently worse minus the whole-- Tommy had zoned out. 

“Who are they?” -- And Tommy zoned back in to question his friend.

“Mm?”

“You knew them, aye?”

Hesitance yet again, Tubbo seemed almost reluctant to answer.

“You called one of them-- your brother, didn’t you?” Although Tommy didn’t want to press further into the other boy's nerves, he wanted answers, he wanted to know what he was dealing with. He wanted to know what he was dealing with.”Tell me about them, please?”

Tubbo somewhat shifted away, lips drew into a thin line as he exhaled a sigh through his nose.

“We were in the system together, y’know?” He’d state, distancing himself from his own words.

The story was told, which seemed a lot longer than one would expect. Tubbo explained how he and the boy with the headband practically grew up with one another despite not having biological blood, he explained how after his mother passed away, his father went into a drunken pit of despair.

_“This is all your fault!”_ A rattling voice bellowed from within the kitchen of a small house, Tubbo could simply recall how he hid in his bedroom with the door locked, hands over his ears as he sat beneath his desk. 

He was merely seven years of age when his mother passed, and from there, his father practically blamed him for her death; telling him every waking moment that if he hadn’t ran after his dog, his mother wouldn’t have chased after him. 

Tubbo explained how after they moved away, his father became the monster he always heard stories about hiding in the dark of his closet, the monster in the hall that would catch him if he were to sneak out at the latest hours of the night to go and sneak some sweets from the cabinets. 

Quietly, he’d begin to explain how he practically ended up in the system’s care, and how that night is something he couldn’t forget no matter how much he tried.

It was a Friday morning, he had just gotten off of school and decided he wanted to get something from the cabinet; his father was asleep on the couch with a half empty bottle of bacardi clutched in his fist dangling off the couch. Tubbo did all that he could to be careful, remaining as silent as a mouse as he strayed into the kitchen and pulled out the stool from the counter. Climbing onto it, he’d practically stand on his tippy-toes in order to reach the shelf that had all of the cups! His tiny hands sprawled out, barely grasping the rim of the glass before it tumbled from the shelf. 

Luckily, with quick reflexes that could probably rival the gods themselves, he managed to catch the glass without tumbling down the stool in the process. His arms swayed to the side, flailing for balance as he began his descent down onto the kitchen floor successfully with his glass! He stated he just wanted to get some water and get back to his room, it’s where he felt safe and where he felt the monsters couldn’t reach him. 

Tubbo couldn’t quite recall what caused the outburst, but he claimed that it happened because he was startled by a noise from the television, which prompted him to drop the glass sending it into pieces onto the floor. Nervously, he described what he said was one of the most horrific things he’s ever seen in this world. The way his father’s eyes fumed with rage he didn’t quite understand at the time, the way those calm shades of brown held nothing but hatred.

He wasn’t sure what happened next, all Tubbo knew is that the last thing he could recall of that event was the moment he found himself being casted down the stairs of the basement, clattering to the bottom before his world fell grim around him. He assumed he went unconscious afterwards, but didn’t quite recall how long he was out for.

Whenever he awoke, he said he was in the hospital with a pair of police officers outside of his room with a nurse at his side and a pair of politely dressed women looking at him with empathy. Tubbo stated that he was told he was out for a couple of days and that they were going to take care of him for a little, of course, at the time they couldn’t quite explain to a seven year old what had happened. How could anyone tell a child that their father practically threw them around like a ragdoll and left them in the basement for the next couple of days until their teacher called to see how they were doing and the line always went to voicemail. 

Tubbo’s eyes dimmed some as he continued the tale, fiddling with his sleeves as he told Tommy that they didn’t tell him much, they merely told him that he was safe now and that he would be going someplace away from his father. When he asked if he could see him, they only flashed a worrisome smile that he couldn’t decipher at such a time. 

After he recovered, his arm was placed in a cast and he had to be careful of his ribs, he recalled that when he left the hospital he was placed into the care of two women that seemed more than happy to look out for him. During this little segment, Tommy took note on how Tubbo relaxed when he began speaking of his foster mothers, seeming that the hard part of the story was over.

Tubbo said that he recovered from there on, that his arm healed just fine and that eventually those bruises faded. He said that the two women were truly the kindest people he had ever met, one lady a dark skinned woman with beautiful hazel eyes that crinkled whenever she smiled; that gentleness reflecting off of the lenses of her round rimmed glasses and her wife was a shorter, handy woman whose arms were colored from shoulder to wrist in beautiful tattoos. 

From there, life was a walk in the park; he faced normal complications growing up, being bullied on occasion at school, discovering he was dyslexic, learning how to ride a bike, it was all a breeze! Then one day, another kid came into the foster. By now, he was ten years of age and the boy who was with him was only three years older than him. Continuing, Tubbo nervously proclaimed that his new foster brother was noted to have a strong fascination with fire and that he was removed from his previous foster parents care for setting the couch on fire in order to see how long it’d take for it to burn, which promptly caused a lot more damage than one would have liked. 

Tubbo did all he could to befriend him, wishing to maybe help make him feel comfortable, but the boy gave him the coldest shoulder for someone who could be known as a pyromaniac. It took him almost a year, but it only happened a little after they were about to be separated. He was adopted by the two women, but the texan still had paper processing, and with all the trouble he had started it began to travel back to the state, and at that moment he slowly began to understand that the texan was scared. 

So they fought, practically tooth and nail to get him the help he needed. All the paperwork his adoptive parents had to go through in order to keep him in the household. Therapy, housework, paperwork, the struggle of adoption and the struggle of facing the court. 

Almost a full year of work finally paid off. They finally became a family!

Toby, his two mothers, and now Nick.

The story trailed off from there, but Tubbo chimed happily to tell Tommy that they had quite a good relationship afterwards. They were an actual family at long last, and things were smooth from there. 

“He’s not a bad guy,” Tubbo stated calmly, waving a hand to the side of him.”When the infection hit, we stuck together, he had my back.. Then he got involved with two of the neighborhood kids, they didn’t live far from us but.. They were in the same class as him.”

There was a moment of silence, but not because of anything in particular, merely because Tommy had more than enough to process. Did Tubbo indirectly vent to him about his life? Yes, probably. 

Tommy slowly reached his hand out, dropping it heavily onto the top of Tubbo’s head which uttered a surprised noise from the brunette.

“ - Your brothers kind of a dick,” He’d say jokingly, which caught a swat from Tubbo in the process.

“Clay and George are.”

“Who?”

..Another story, it seems. 

…

This is going to be a long night of stories. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little rushed, I'm sorry. Have some character notes to help! 
> 
> • Tommy's parents are divorced, he lived with his mother and visited his father on weekends. His mother is presumed dead, father is MIA.  
> • Tubbo's mother died after being struck by a driver when she tried to run after Tubbo who was chasing their dog who got out. His father is presumed dead.  
> • Sapnap is Tubbo's adopted brother; their adoptive mothers are still alive and kicking. :]  
> • Tommy and Tubbo did go to school together, even after Tubbo was placed in the system. Though when Tubbo moved, they lost contact for awhile.  
> • George, Dream and Sapnap went to the same school together, Tubbo knew them before the infection but he never really interacted with them.


	7. <Hello! Please read>

Not an update, and I do apologize; now that the holidays are coming to an end, I should be able to be able to give this fanfiction an update. I've been hit with a heavy wave of depression over the last few weeks. To make up for it, I give you snippits of the newest chapter I am working on. :] It may not be incredibly long, but I hope it's enough to keep you interested in my absence. Stay safe out there, stay hydrated, and remember to be kind to one another; your kind words mean a lot to me and I'm thankful for everyone who had commented on my previous chapters.

=====

"You're telling me, two kids managed to not only knock you down, but take your keys and escape with the truck."

"Yep."

"Nick, you have a fucking _gun._ "

"George, you can come at me for not shooting when you can tell me what color Clay's jacket is."

And at that moment, Nick had to narrowly avoid the flailing of arms from his companion as the man in question sat on the curb wiping blood away from his temple, ignoring the roaring laughter from the Texan practically ran circles around the parking lot while George yelled a string of curses after him. The two weren't exactly to bothered by the situation at hand, Nick knew what he had done, George was to insulted to be reminded of what had went down, but Clay?

Clay wasn't laughing one bit.

======

"Jump in Cadillac," Tommy sprang upright, pointing a finger from atop the recliner at Tubbo who stood in the kitchen, ignoring the aching that coursed through his bandage covered arm."Girl let's put some miles on it."

"Anything you want," Tubbo turned away from the cabinet, pulling his arms dramatically to his chest."Just to put a smile on it! You deserve it baby, you deserve it aLLLL."

 _"AND I'M GONNA GIVE IT TO YOU!"_ The two sang in imperfect harmony, only to break into a roaring fit of laughter. The world didn't matter to them at the moment, they were merely enjoying themselves.

The world would have to wait.

======

"Tommy, do you think that stars have feelings?"

"I'd say they do, and you're living proof of that, Toby."

"Are you saying I'm a star?" The brunette inquired curiously.

"In my eyes? You're the sun."


	8. This is Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yep."
> 
> "Nick, you have a fucking gun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind words, you're all wonderful. ;; Let me know if you would you like to see a certain character introduced!
> 
> Warning:  
> • Slight shipping •  
> • Mentions of injury •  
> • References to memes, I'm sorry. •

The two teens spent the rest of their night going back and forth with stories, some of memories that they could recall from their childhood and others that sprouted during the infection. Tubbo explained how he, Sap, and their mother’s got separated during the initial wave of evacuation a little after the military had been dispatched to either get rid of the infection or aid all who remained in the city, in which Tommy responded with his own tale of how he could only keep onto hope that perhaps his mother and grandparents were safe somewhere, that perhaps his father was looking out for them and that once they get past the city limit he’ll have an easier time reaching such answers. 

Although, while they settled into their shifts for the night, a simple thought evaded them of the enemies they'd likely made hours prior to returning home. 

All but a rookie mistake in this game of survival, and one that will not pass easily. One that may not be forgiven until there was blood as tribute. One that could only end in disaster.

Back at the convenience store, the trio of supposed trouble sat in waiting. The soot covered man leaned back against the stone walls as the other with thick rimmed shades stood guard with a metal baseball bat wrapped in wire and with them sat the man with a chipped and bloodied mask, a crudely drawn smiley face plastered across the front. 

“So,” The texan abruptly broke the silence that lingered upon the three heavy, unfiltered tensions that could break at the slightest drop of a pin given the situation.

Not only did two brats manage to get into their ‘territory’, as one would call it, they vandalized the inside of it, broke a majority of locks, stolen quite a fair bit of products and in a game of wits, seemingly overpowered not only two of them, but three. 

“Can it, Sap.” George shot a glance towards Sap, who averted his gaze out sarcasm rather than disrespect.

“Are we going to just-- y’know, sit here and mope?” Sap made a proper jab at the atmosphere, receiving a slight stirr from the masked figure who finally seemed to speak.

"You're telling me, two kids managed to not only knock you down, but take your keys and escape with the truck."

"Yep."

"Nick, you have a fucking  _ gun. _ "

"George, you can come at me for not shooting when you can tell me what color Clay's jacket is."

And at that moment, Sap had to narrowly avoid the flailing of arms from his companion as the man in question sat on the curb wiping blood away from his temple, ignoring the roaring laughter from the Texan practically running circles around the parking lot while George yelled a string of curses after him. The two weren't exactly too bothered by the situation at hand, Sap knew what he had done, George was too insulted to be reminded of what had gone down, but Clay?

Clay wasn't laughing one bit. In fact, for that matter?

He was plotting.

This wasn’t a mere inconvenience, George and Sap could treat it like it was while they carried on with their foolishness and bantering, but Dream found this to be personal, a test of his control, a test of whatever power he held and he would be damned if he was going to let two runts step over that line again. 

Being on his side was like living the dream, having everything you could ask for and everything you could take, but being against him would be a living nightmare and everything one would have ever built would crumble beneath his boots. Although Tubbo had experience firsthand, Tommy was in for a grand disaster and Dream was just about living for it.

So he plotted, and so he rangled his two companions into the store for the night with those maniacal thoughts dancing through his head as if it were a festival. 

And the rest of the night was peaceful. 

Yet, when the morning sun arose, Tommy and Tubbo were unphased yet again by the night before, in fact, they were both in a relatively good mood to begin with although their bodies ached with bruising from their brawls in the store. 

Tubbo stood in what little space of a kitchen, digging through the cabinets for whatever he could find to make a proper breakfast that wasn’t merely crackers dipped in various sides or sauces, which seemed to be what Tommy lived off of and without a doubt. 

Off to the side was a portable burner with a pot filled to the brim with white rice that’s been boiled in what smelled like chicken bouillon seasoned with a fair share of salt, pepper, and garlic powder. In the midst of his makeshift cooking, the two seemed to share a moment of fondness with the muffled sound of music humming just barely a decimal above that of the boiling water. 

Tommy was clearing up space throughout the apartment, moving stuff closer towards the walls and windows to help mute out whatever noise he could as Tubbo shimmied around the kitchen checking the dates on whatever may be in the cabinets.

“You got it if you want it,” The blonde teen sang beneath his breath, adjusting the bandaging on his arm ever so slightly,”Got-got it if y’want it.” As if it were a chain reaction, the brunette glanced on over from his search and almost mockingly sang along.”Said y’got it if you want it, take my wallet if you want it?” 

There was no stopping this train.

"Jump in Cadillac," Tommy sprang upright, pointing a finger from atop the recliner at Tubbo who stood in the kitchen, ignoring the aching that coursed through his bandage covered arm."Girl let's put some miles on it."

"Anything you want," Tubbo turned away from the cabinet, pulling his arms dramatically to his chest."Just to put a smile on it! You deserve it baby, you deserve it aLLLL."

_ "AND I'M GONNA GIVE IT TO YOU!"  _ The two sang in imperfect harmony, only to break into a roaring fit of laughter. The world didn't matter to them at the moment, they were merely enjoying themselves.

The world would have to wait.

Their volume hadn’t mattered, they felt safe enough inside the confines of Tommy’s apartment and they deserved a bit of serotonin after the last couple days.

It wasn’t until the pot of rice nearly boiled over did they remember what the hell they were doing! Luckily, Tubbo managed to salvage their supposed lunch for that day and served Tommy a heaping bowl of rice with dumb seasonings he could find topped with chunks of beef jerky. 

The rest of day was spent with them developing a routine to help keep their home protected, which they seemed to divised over their food and from such a thing they figured a schedule would be one of their best ways to survive such a thing. Now, the apartment was already quite closed off and protected, but they knew as time passed on, the security would be worn by time itself rather than intruders. 

They called it ‘TnT Strat’ and day by day more was added onto it and some was scratched off in ink.

  1. _Lock all windows and doors before leaving the apartment, keep the bad out and the good in._
  2. _Check around the block once twice a week for any shambler herds. _
  3. _~~Beat up the masked guy with a brick.~~_



_~~ A car. ~~ _

_~~ A wrench. ~~ _

_ My fists? _

_ 3\. Check the apartment for damage you raccoon. _

_ \- Secure the fire escape. _

_ 4\. ~~Get a dog~~ _

_ No. _

  1. _Set up quiet alarm systems around the apartment with cans._
  2. _Teach Tommy how to drive._



_ \- Teach Toby how to use a gun. _

~~_ He’s a poor shot. _ ~~

  1. _Lights out before the sun goes down._
  2. _Avoid Saffron Street._
  3. _Avoid anything marked with dumb green paint._
  4. _Don’t die, forehead._



The routine was-- well, what one would expect or the two and they figured they’ll merely add more as time goes on. Within just a week, they did their best to keep their home stabilized for the upcoming conditions of the unforgiving cold which prompted a fair challenge. Windows and doors had to be isolated, but able to be opened if there were an emergency. A fire was risky, considering they’d have to light it from within the small apartment and that could only be a spell for disaster. Without the electricity, they had to rely on separate alternatives of heat; more so dressing up a bit more in clothes they could salvage from the remains of other apartments which they used to aid their own. 

Who knew such simple tasks could be a pain?

“Quit your groanin’, I’m just trying to see if it’s infected.” Tubbo grumbled as Tommy writhed away from his cold hands that attempted to peel away the bandaging that wrapped the blonde’s arm, who seemed more than defiant to even look at the wound itself.

“You’re one to talk, bitch-boy.” Tommy spat back in a seemingly playful manner which had earned a roll of the eyes from the shorter male as the fabric peeled from the skin with a slick sound, which was enough to make Tommy himself gag in the process.

The wound itself seemed rather clear of infection, luckily enough and the flayed skin was on the brink of kneading together, a layer of scabbing running across the surface that gave Tommy an unrelenting desire to scratch at it as Tubbo carefully pressed a damp cloth that smells heavily of antiseptic.

“Just talk, it’ll help, I promise.” The makeshift medic that was Tubbo assured, applying a creamy base of salve around that left a chill dancing down Tommy’s spine, leaving a subtle scent of menthol in the air around them after the application.”What’s your favorite color?”

“..Really?”

“Answer the question, Tommy.”

“What? S’this some kind of interrogation I don’t know about? I’ll have you know, I am a prime investor of bitcoin and women.” 

“Well, how do I know you’re not a fraud, huh? I’m the big law ‘round here, things are sounding a little less pear-shaped.”

“What.”

“What?”

Between their banter, there was a moment of silence as they stared at one another in vacancy, neither knowing whether to laugh or to shake their head. All Tommy could do was lean almost uncomfortably close towards the brunette who sat there with a brow cocked and raised, reaching back for a roll of bandaging to cover the blonde’s wound. Now face to face, they could only stare at one another in an idle silence, unmoving and possibly even holding their breath.

It was a moment, one could say, all before Tommy whispered in a low voice that rumbled a sense of sterness, like a businessman making a point across.

“Bitcoin.” He’d state, leaving Tubbo dropping his head forward in either betrayal or doing so in an attempt to contain himself from knocking this fool atop the head. After a moment Tubbo continued to wrap Tommy’s arm up, securing the bandages snuggly to where they wouldn’t rub heavily at the irritated skin while it healed.

Now it was Tubbo’s turn.

Unlike Tommy, who had the chance to get his injury treated only moments after it had been treated, Tommy wasn’t quite sure how long Tubbo had been harmed and how long he went without the proper medical attention. Anxiety practically bubbled in his stomach as he hesitantly moved to remove the bandaging that engulfed Tubbo’s torso, only to find that the boy matched his own anxieties in the process.

The removal was more emotionally painful for Tommy, considering he wasn’t exactly squeamish, he was merely allergic to going through more pain than he had too, but this pain wasn’t even his to carry, yet it weighed down upon him more than any injury ever could.

Now Tubbo wasn’t tiny, but he was rather short with a seemingly stout build of slight tones to his muscles even if it didn’t show; he carried Tommy up flights of stairs with not only his own equipment but with what they had gotten, he knew the smaller boy was strong, probably even stronger than he was at this point but he couldn’t quite get the idea of why anyone would harm him? 

Peeling away the bandaging only left those thoughts rampaging through his mind like a chipped disk playing on loop, the sickening noise from before haunting him as it felt almost as if the bandaging was refusing to separate itself from the irritated flesh. Watching carefully as Tubbo flinched against certain movements, perhaps even with how strong the boy was; even he was still human. He still hurt, even after all that had happened. 

“..Talk to me, Tubbo. It’ll help, I.. promise.” Tommy repeated those very words to help ease some kind of comfort onto the brunette as he slaved away attempting to remove the wrappings as carefully as possible to not disturb him. 

“About-- what?” Tubbo then questioned, tensing and untensing as the cold air brushed against the exposed wound which looked ever so slightly better, lacking the thick scent of infection and regaining a bit of-- normal.. Coloration to it and the ripped skin along the ridges.

“Anything.” Tommy shrugged at the question, scoffing slightly as Tubbo ran into the same wall he did in attempts to find something to talk about. Giving some time for the boy to think, he quickly made use of whatever products were at his disposal, more so attempting to follow the latter’s steps with salve, antiseptic, disinfectant and yet again more wrapping. 

They may have spent more time thinking about what to say rather than speaking, which did almost the same thing as the prior suggestion; it distracted them enough to get them through the process. With the bigger injuries out of the way, the two moved onto the smaller scrapes and bruising; dressing the ones that bled with a couple of bandaids and anything that looked as if it were a blossoming ground for infection was cleaned and wrapped up. This process was done completely in silence, merely breathing in each other’s presence as they huddled close upon the couch with the aching of their muscles easing away slowly but surely as they shifted every now and then for comfort. 

Only then was the silence broken, this time by Tubbo who spoke in a voice laced with a gentle tone.

"Tommy, do you think that stars have feelings?" The question itself had caught Tommy off guard, almost unprepared as he’d lean his head against the other.

"I'd say they do, and you're living proof of that, Toby."

"Are you saying I'm a star?" The brunette inquired curiously, raising himself slightly to meet his gaze with Tommy’s, breathing becoming all but a concept as their eyes met.

"In my eyes?” Tommy mused as he’d lean his head down, thumping his forehead against the unruly curls of his friend.

“You're the sun."

The words bloomed sweetly, causing Tubbo’s heart to skip a beat as the two lingered against one another with starlit eyes that Tommy could get lost in, the deep hues of brown clashing against the storming blue of his own as the two unconsciously leaned forward to take one another in.

Tommy carefully cuffed Tubbo’s cheek within his palm, smiling slightly at the doe-eyed teen leaned into the touch. They could feel their breath on their lips, the way their noses barely touched as two dopey grins fell upon their faces as at long last, they melted into each other’s hold as awkward as it may have been.

Tubbo’s hand was colder compared to Tommy’s, which caused his fingers to twitch when he attempted to entwine them. Their noses bumped into one another, nearly causing them to break into a fit of giggles and laughter in the process. It was a quick chaste kiss onto the lips, one that had left Tubbo’s top lip aching as Tommy’s braces skimmed across them accidentally. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

It was enough to bring them peace for the night, and perhaps a better feeling in the morning. After all, they did have a routine to follow now, even if it was absolutely pointless. 

They had each other, which felt about all they would have ever needed. 


End file.
